


7 Ages of Man

by mwicks



Series: 7 Series [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: 7 Series, AU, ColbertFamilyFeels, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, FickFamilyFeels, Growing old together feels, Kid Fic, Kid!Brad, Kid!Nate, M/M, Outsiders POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwicks/pseuds/mwicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It feels like Nate’s known Brad his whole life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Infancy

**Author's Note:**

> Complete fabrication – based on characters from a TV series and the authors own wild imaginings with no disrespect for actual people. All mistakes my own - written on the shoulders of giants...
> 
> Is part of the 7 Series - stories are NOT necessarily connected.

She shifted uncomfortably on the grass, trying to relieve the rhythmic pain flaring in her lower back. Slightly disgusted by her size – she really can’t wait for this child to arrive – she struggles to tuck her bare legs beneath her. Bare legs in November, how strange; these warm winter months on the West coast took some getting used to. If she was back home, she’d be stuck inside with the central heating blasting away to get the type of warmth she was currently enjoying sitting under the lush foliage just meters from the beach.  
As she looked out over the ocean, she wondered how long Chris was going to be, whether she should actually be making her way back to their rented bungalow and why she couldn’t find a position that would alleviate this annoying backache, when three things happened all at once that broke her from her idle daydream.  
A flash of white blonde and red in the corner of her eye, the small sound of delighted gurgling and the sharp pain of a Fisher Price Little People figurine hitting her distended belly announced the arrival of an unaccompanied toddler dressed in fire engine red dungarees, white undershirt, with a mop of white blonde hair and the most disconcerting blue eyed gaze.  
He stood about 2 feet away from her, sucking the fingers of his left hand, while holding out his right and making grabby signals.  
She absently rubbed the spot where the – was that an Army Little People person? – had hit her, and held out the toy for the blonde headed cherub to take.  
His fingers slide out of his mouth with a loud, wet plop as his face lit up with delight. Happily gurgling, arms outstretched, he took the three or four steps needed to reach her side and wrapped his chubby fingers around the definitely Army Little People person. She smiled as he hummed and grunted his pleased countenance. He fixed her with his blue gaze and smiled back at her, all gums and dribble. His eyes tracked her hand still rubbing her large belly.  
She watched in fascination as the small child reached out with his free hand and placed it ever so gently next to hers on her belly. She winced a little when her child decided to announce its presence with a particular vicious kick right under their hands. The toddler huffed and giggled, moved his hand further across her belly. Her child followed the small hand, bumping itself wherever it touched. This seemed to amuse the dungaree wearing child no end.  
“BRADLEY!”  
The both of them jumped and turned to watch a tall, dark haired woman marching quickly towards them, the relief and annoyance etched across her striking face.  
“Oh, there you are, stop harassing that nice lady!” her voice wavering only slightly, her panic lacing her anger.  
Bradley smiled up at her, then turned back to watch his hand bounce up and down from the rather insistence kicking her child was doing.  
“I’m so sorry about this,” the dark haired woman was saying, “he’s so fast on his feet it’s hard to keep a track of him.”  
“It’s fine,” she said finally looking up to see the woman – Bradley’s mom? – watching the interaction carefully.  
Bradley chortled away.  
“How old is he?” she asked.  
Brad’s mom looked torn between pulling him away from the crazy pregnant lady and answering the question politely. She chose the latter.  
“He’s nine months.”  
“Already walking?”  
“Yeah – skipped crawling, just stood up, walked across the living room and turned the TV off,” Bradley’s mom laughed fondly at the memory. She reached down and gathered the toddler into her arms. He looked directly at his mother, smiled and patted her cheek.  
The contrast between the two pronounced as they stood swaying in the afternoon sun; Bradley all round cheeks and blond, his mom brunette and angles. She wondered if her child would look more like her or Chris.  
The dull pain in her back returned reminding her that she really should be heading home; she moved to get up. Her soft moan brought a helping hand from Bradley’s mom.  
“Thanks,” she huffed as she tried to straighten herself out. Her back was really hurting her now.  
“Debbie Colbert,” Bradley’s mom introduced herself, “and you’ve met Bradley.”  
Bradley waved his Army Little People person at her, his left hand back in his mouth. She smiled.  
“Anne Fick,” she said as she rubbed her sides.  
“You look like you are about to pop,” Debbie offered, her eyes automatically drawn to the roundness Anne’s dress tried so hard to contain.  
Anne laughed ruefully.  
“Anytime in the next 2 weeks,” she tried not to show the strain of walking.  
“Your first?”  
Anne nodded, gritted her teeth and forced herself to walk.  
“DEBBORAH!”  
All three jumped a little and turned to see a tall, dark haired man waving frantically at them.  
“Ah, looks like Daddy’s ready to go,” Debbie directed this at Bradley, “Shall we go and pick your sister up from ‘Monkey Music’?”  
Bradley made a non-committal noise, his azure eyes fixed on Anne, a half smile on his face.  
“Nice to meet you Anne,” Debbie was saying, “good luck with – well - everything, I guess.” She smiled.  
“Thanks,” Anne replied, “Bye Bradley.” She waved, received a smile and an Army Little People person shake.  
Debbie smiled and turned to walk towards her husband.  
Anne watched Bradley squirm in his mother’s arms until he was looking over her shoulder, his blue gaze never leaving Anne’s.  
She absentmindedly rubbed her back, her thoughts turning to the short walk back to their house, what she was going to cook for dinner and how Chris was going to have to rub her back for her when he got home.


	2. Boyhood

Boyhood  
“See ya!” his son yelled as he went racing off into the playground, small arms and legs thrown about in that haphazard way all 7 year olds have. His breath caught for a second as he watched the sandy haired dynamo launch himself onto the monkey bars and quickly pull himself to the top. Just as well Annie had decided to take the girls shopping this morning, leaving the boys alone to enjoy the neighbour park.  
He settled back on the bench, leaning back to soak up the warm August sun. The playground was full of laughing, shrieking children of all ages, swinging, sliding, running and jumping on the various pieces of equipment. He caught sight of his son hanging upside down from the monkey bars and smiled.  
His kid was fearless.  
He’d read in the Sun the other day that Saturday mornings were typically ‘Dad’s mornings’ – the only time working fathers could spend with their children, and judging by the number of adult males struggling with small children around the playground, this held true.  
The raucous roar of six small boys streaking across the rope bridge and onto the monkey bars had his attention back on his son.  
From the bench, the small tribe of marauders seem to be lead by a tallish, blonde haired boy of about 9. His longish legs carried him easily up the monkey bars; the five other boys followed him with enthusiasm. One of the boys either didn’t see Nate hanging upside down, or decided the best way around the obstacle Nate presented was over the top. The red canvas shoe connecting with his son's face didn’t seem to hurt that much, but the same shoe applied to Nate’s fingers had him yelping in pain, letting go of the bar and falling head first into the sand below.  
Before he could get up from the bench, the blonde leader had descended the frame and was picking Nate up from the sand, brushing the dust from small shaking legs and saying something that had Nate looking at him warily with watery green eyes.  
His son didn’t seem to be bleeding or have broken anything, so he sat tight just watching how Nate would deal with this.  
Nate pushed his fringe back from his forehead and fixed the blonde haired boy with a solemn stare. He was listening intently while the other boy kept talking, then, suddenly Nate’s face lit up into one of his big smiles and even from the bench he could hear the unrestrained happiness in Nate’s laughter.  
The blonde boy motioned for Nate’s assailant to get off the monkey bars and after tense two or three seconds, the boy complied and came to stand in front of them. The red canvas shoe boy seemed smaller than Nate, messy dark brown hair and huge brown eyes. The blonde haired boy was talking to him, motioning to Nate. The smaller boy looked at Nate and slowly stuck his hand out. Nate looked at the older boy who nodded and then took the small hand in his and they shook. The older boy smiled and threw his arm around Nate’s shoulder and directed them back towards the rope bridge.

Crisis averted.  
He watched closely for a few more minutes, but Nate seemed to be fine, happily following the blonde leader over various obstacles. The rest of the group seemed to take the older boy’s lead and accept Nate into their gang; Nate even laughing at something the smaller dark haired boy said. He didn’t know why Annie worried so much about their son – Nate was fine.  
His mind wandered off, checking only occasionally on Nate; watched him scramble up the rope webbing, jump off the roundabout and roll away laughing, crawl through the cement pipe and run across the sand behind the blonde kid. The tall blonde kid didn’t let Nate out of his sight, holding onto an arm, pulling him by the hand, bringing their heads to together to whisper in Nate’s ear. Nate wasn’t a demonstrative kid, so when Nate threw one small arm around the blonde kid’s waist, it took him a moment to process that.  
They were walking towards the swings, arms casually thrown around each other, the rest of the group forgotten, when Nate looked up and caught his eye. His son waved, the motion alerting the blonde haired boy who looked in his direction as well. To his surprise the blonde kid smiled and waved. Before he could figure that out his thoughts were interrupted.  
“I’m always suspicious when Brad’s smiling.”  
He turned to see a man leaning against the back of the bench he was sitting on. The man was looking at Nate and the blonde boy now standing near the swings, deep in conversation.  
“Unless they are plotting a hostile takeover of the see saw, I think we’re safe.”  
The other man smiled, turned to him and introduced himself.  
“Adam Colbert,” the hand shake was firm and brief.  
“Chris Fick.”  
Adam nodded and came to sit down on the bench.  
“Never really seen Brad accept someone new so easily,” Adam said as he watched the two boys.  
Chris looked back in time to see Brad grasp Nate’s hand and pull him towards the slides. He noticed they didn’t let go of each other. He raised his eyebrows.  
“How old’s Brad?”  
“8 – tall for his age, or so his mother tells me.”  
Chris nodded.  
“Nate’ll be 8 in November.”  
They both watch as Brad lets Nate go up the slide first. Nate waits until Brad is at seated behind him; his long legs both side of Nate and then pushed off. They slide down together.  
The fathers don’t comment, just continued to sit in silence watching the boys enjoying each other’s company.  
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Chris finally said, “They’re 8.”  
Adam nodded liked he believed that – almost.  
"Yeah, nothing to worry about.”


	3. Lover

Lover  
“Fuck off, Matt,” was the initial response – it was like a default mode, but if there was one thing Matt had learnt about his roommate over the last 6 months- it was that persistence paid off.  
So he just kept asking until the overachieving workaholic said yes. Simple, really.  
It kinda went like this:  
Matt had been completely wrecked the morning Nathaniel Fick moved into their dorm – Chelsea had thrown a HUGE opener the night before and he’d scored some wicked shit AND Stacey Compton had given him superior head before Wes declared it Tequila Time and everything was pretty much a blur after that.  
Needless to say, the next morning Matt was not in any fit state to receive visitors. It probably explains why Nate’s mom STILL can’t really look him in the eye and how Nate’s dad just grins every time he sees Matt. The Fick’s are pretty cool, but there is something about seeing your son’s roommate passed out on the floor, in lace suspenders, with a feather boa, that’s going to create a natural distance between you.  
Probably for the best.  
Anyway, the Fick’s drop Nate off, he looks at Matt for about half a second; those green eyes narrowing a fraction, then fills a cup with water, pulls a packet of aspirin from his backpack and places them on the floor next to Matt’s head.  
And thus, a perfect partnership was born.  
The thing about Nate is – if he wasn’t so well liked by just about everybody, he’d be the kind a guy you’d hate. He’s uber smart, seems to work 25 hours a day, is part of the cross country team, writes for the college paper, tutors high school maths, holds down a part time job at the campus coffeehouse and volunteers at the hospital radio station. Matt’s not sure how Nate does it.  
To cap it all off – Nate’s pretty good looking and there never seems to be a lack of interest from the female population, and a certain section of the male population, of the college. By all rights, Nate should be one cocky motherfucker – but THAT’S the thing about Nate, he’s just NOT.  
The other thing about Nate is – according to Matt – he NEVER knows when to relax, which is why it’s up to Matt to remind him – every Friday night. And keep reminding him until he acquiescent to the request.  
Persistency pays off.  
So, this particular Friday, Elly and Jackie said they were going to the Club Bar and they promised to show Matt their double act if he’d buy them drinks. Elly and Jackie are on Matt’s ‘To Do’ list so he’s really keen to go. Jackie says bring Nate, which leads to Matt annoying the hell out of his roomie.  
Of course, Nate goes on about the Greek deadline, which is three weeks away – but he “really wants to get it done so he can focus on his independent and since when has ‘getting Matt laid’ been his problem anyway?”  
Nate can be pretty feisty when he wants to be.  
But Matt doesn’t take no for an answer.  
So they head out to the Club Bar, picking up the girls as they go – and Matt’s pretty sure Jackie wants in Nate’s pants because the girl is NOT subtle at all – but Nate’s being all polite about it.  
They get to the Club; find a booth at the back near the pool tables and Matt sends Nate off to the bar. Jackie offers to go with him, but Nate just waves her off and she settles down all pouty and cute next to Elly.  
Elly’s totally all over Matt’s shtick – she’s on crew and Matt totally digs sporty girls, plus GTA is her life and Matt might just have to marry her.  
“Oh my god,” Jackie’s squeal interrupts their debate on Liberty vs Vice City, “hotties just walked in.”  
Matt looks up in time to see four extremely buff military type dudes swagger to the bar. It’s not unusual to see grunts around campus and Matt has no problem with the armed services but the clear glee in Jackie’s voice kinda annoys him.  
He’s going to have to revise his ‘To Do’ list.  
He doesn’t really give it much more thought – Elly’s hand on his thigh when she stresses a point distracts him – until Nate comes back from the bar with the four army dudes in tow. He is laughing at something the tallest one is saying to him and Matt’s not sure if he’s seen that particular expression on Nate’s face before.  
“I send you for beers, you come back with the Army,” Matt teases as the drinks are set down and Nate directs the guests to seats.  
“Marines,” Nate corrects quickly, “Guys, this is Reyes, Gallagher, O’Connor and Colbert.”  
He introduces everyone and Matt sees Jackie’s face light up when Reyes takes her hand to shake it. A quick sideways glance at Elly produces a pleasant, welcoming smile – her hand hasn’t left his thigh. He’s more than happy about that.  
Jackie is definitely off the ‘To Do’ list.  
Matt feels kinda bad for Nate, what with Jackie making her designs on Reyes very obvious until he looks over the table to where his roomie is sitting with Colbert.  
They are in deep conversation, Nate’s green eyes wide and laughing. Matt knows Nate well enough to realise that he really likes this marine guy.  
That’s surprising.  
“I take it you no longer want to be a fireman?” Colbert asks with a half grin.  
Nate shakes his head and rolls his eyes.  
“Man, I can’t believe you remember that shit,” his playful tone evident.  
“Do you guys know each other?” Matt can’t help asking.  
The twin startled looks he gets is kinda funny.  
“In the middle of my daring plan to rid the monkey bars of all non human life forms, this one became collateral damage,” Colbert motions towards Nate.  
“He stepped on my fingers,” Nate said softly, “and you made him apologise, Brad.”  
“Well, someone has to teach that whiskey tango retard manners,” Brad smirks at Nate.  
“Fuck, Iceman, Person’s still struggling with those concepts,” O’Connor says and the Marines laughed. They seem to know who Brad is talking about, but it’s all a mystery to Matt.  
“Brother Ray is a law unto himself at times, “Reyes intones and Jackie giggles.  
Matt resists the urge to roll his eyes.  
The conversation segued into random topics and before long Matt realises that Marines tend to show affection through constant verbal sparring – something that both Elly and Nate seemed to relish.  
When Brad offered to get the next round, Nate went with him and Matt was watching them walk towards the bar when Elly’s small hand slipped into his and he forget what he was doing for a minute. She is pretty awesome.  
Nate and Brad wandered back sometime later, carrying four jugs of beer between them, and things started to get really noisy. Not that Matt minded because Elly hasn’t let go of his hand.  
Sometime after Rudy’s round, Gallaher becomes excited.  
“Hey, there’s a free table – whose game?” he asks and Matt knows he’s going to regret that later.  
“No takers?” Gallagher laughs, “Soft, Ivy League dick sucks.” His tone is playful, but Matt can hear the challenge behind it.  
“Alright marine,” Elly says squaring up to him, “Matt and I against you and O’Connor.”  
Gallagher and O’Conner just look at each other and grin – Matt can see the victory in their eyes. This is going to be fun.  
“Shit just got real,” he hears Rudy say as they move towards the table. He thinks he hears Nate laugh.  
Elly takes them from the break and it’s all over in a matter of minutes. Matt can’t help but laugh at the dumbfounded expression on the two marines. He can definitely hear Nate laughing from the booth.  
Of course the marines want a rematch and Brad yells at them for losing to a bunch of pansy assed civilians. He’s smiling at Nate when he says it and Matt can’t help noticing Nate’s responding smile.  
They play four more games before the marines banish them from playing. Matt doesn’t mind because Elly comes and leans back between his legs as he sits on one of the tall stools. He wraps his arms around her shoulders as they watch Brad drag Nate to the table.  
He should probably warn Brad that pool is maybe the one thing Nate’s not all that good at – but it doesn’t take long for him to find out.  
“Pathetic Fick,” Brad admonishes as he reaches for Nate’s wrists to show him where to place the cue. Matt would think about Nate’s intake of breathe and the slow creep of colour across his cheek, but Elly turns her face to his and whispers in his ear.  
“Let’s get out of here,”  
They make their hurried goodbyes - and set out.  
The last thing Matt sees is Brad leaning over Nate helping him line the shot, his body pressing Nate’s into the table.  
He doesn’t really think about that until he opens the door to their dorm the next morning and trips over a pair of combat boots on his way to his bed.  
Combat boots?  
Matt looks over to Nate’s side of the room and in the dim morning light he can see Brad Colbert’s blue eyes staring back at him. He’s spooned up behind Nate, who’s on his side, asleep with his head on Brad’s arm. Their hands are entwined and Matt’s pretty sure there’s no clothing involved judging by the amount of bare skin on display.  
Brad raises an eyebrow; Matt knows a challenge when he sees one. He nods, quickly retrieves his shower kit and towel and heads into the bathroom.  
To his surprise, Matt doesn’t freak out – in fact he starts to hum ‘What a Wonderful World’ as he runs the shower – and thinks about seeing Elly for lunch.


	4. Soldier

Soldier  
She sighs and closes the oven. She can hear him banging around in the garage, looking for some motorcycle part he swears he left there 2 years ago.  
That’s not what he’s really doing, but she doesn’t call him on it. It’s just lovely to have him home for a little while – even if he turned up yesterday with a face like thunder and as incommunicative as a rock.  
Nothing about Bradley has ever been easy. From the moment they brought him home he’d been a handful, constantly testing and pushing and battling against whatever you had. When he was younger he was always demanding her attention, trying her patience, getting himself into trouble.  
She knew that some (Mrs Goldsmere) thought their military school decision at the time was harsh and unfair, but it was exactly what Bradley needed and he excelled in ways they couldn’t have foreseen. Joining the Marine Corps had been the natural progression and, despite the strain of worry when he was deployed, it had been the best path for her warrior son.  
A particularly loud crash and muffled cursing brought her thoughts back to the 6’4’’ sulking marine warrior currently hiding out in her garage.  
“Everything ok, honey?”she asks as the connecting door banged open and her son emerges.  
“Fine, mom,” comes the terse reply. Everything had been ‘fine’ since he got here.  
She knows it’s not anything to do with his last deployment because Cindy had reported that, apart from Patrick and Evan, there had been no serious injuries. She doesn’t think it’s female related, even though he’s acting pretty much on par with the ‘after Jen’ fiasco they all endured that first 6 months after Jen and Drew told him.  
She doesn’t want to go back to that dark place again - it really broke her heart to see her usually bright blue eyed son so gloomy and hurting. Despite what some (Mrs Goldsmere, again) have said about adoption, she’s never regretted having Brad in her life – even at his most terrible, she’d always seen him as hers and loved him wholeheartedly.  
Which is why she’s giving him another 20 minutes of stomping around before she starts with the Debbie Colbert interrogation technique – guaranteed to crack even the hardest Marine.  
She watches silently as her ‘everything is FINE, mom’ son trudges out onto the patio. She can’t help the small smile forming on her face; he probably thinks he’s being all contained and stealth with his feelings but she’s had years of being able to read Brad and she knows all his tells.  
20 minutes later, she finds him sitting at the large wooden outdoor table they have in the shaded barbeque area beside the pool. He’s absently twisting a rubber band around between his fingers and staring off into the mid distance.  
She places the plate of double chocolate fudge brownies (Bubbe Colbert’s recipe) and a tall glass of milk in front of him and sits down next to him.  
He looks at the plate and glass, looks at her, then back to the plate. It takes about 3 seconds for the frown to appear and the next time he looks at her there is anger in those beautiful blue eyes. He reigns it in when he realises she’s calmly regarding him. Instead, he raises an eyebrow and waits for her to say something.  
She can give a little.  
“I thought you might like some of Bubbie’s Brownies,” she pulls off nonchalant exceedingly well.  
Brad’s eyes narrow slightly.  
“I said I was fine, Mom,” he goes for calm and direct.  
Two can play this game.  
“Yes, dear, I know that,” she says as she pats him on the arm, “but I don’t get to bake for my number one son that often.”  
He’s not fooled: he’s not going to give in that easily.  
“Only son,”  
She tips her head on the side and gives him a studied look. Like with every deployment, he’s lost weight and there are the lingering tired shadows under his eyes; but it’s the sadness mixed with hurt and anger that’s turned his normally crystal blue eyes a deep metallic grey blue that captures her attention.  
“Yes, my only son,” she calmly agrees, “whom I’ve lost sleep over, fretted over, prayed for; my only son who is now too good to eat his bubbe’s brownies.”  
He knows it for what it is – complete emotional blackmail; but it’s a mother’s prerogative and she’s going to use it.  
Without leaving her gaze, he reaches for a brownie and brings it to his mouth. She watches him purposefully take a huge bit and chew.   
She waits.  
3 or 4 chews in she knows the chocolate will hit his system and if there’s one thing in the world that can distract Brad from any mood, it’s chocolate. He might be a fierce warrior, a million dollar Marine Corps killer, but inside he’s still that little boy she spent endless evenings nursing through a myriad of childhood illnesses and she knows what her boy needs.  
She’s surprised he hasn’t realised this about himself.  
She watches him chew and swallow, the anger receding from his eyes as he concentrates on eating the brownies. She passes him the milk and he takes a huge gulp.  
She refrains from smirking.   
When he’s almost finished, she starts with the talking.  
“You know, I was talking to Cindy this morning,” she was watching, so she didn’t miss the minuscule twitch, “and she was telling me that Ray’s not going to re-up.”  
Brad only nods so she continues.  
“Apparently he’s decided to go to college and do something to do with media,” Brad smirks at this, the thought of Ray anywhere near a platform that allows him to spread his own special brand of humour to a wide audience is enough to make her smile as well.  
She continues.  
“Cindy tells me he’s spending some time with Walter before your next deployment,” her voice is calm. Ray’s mother, Cindy, really is a wealth of information.  
Brad nods again as he drains the last of the milk. While not exactly bouncing with joy, the chocolate has kicked in and the tension has gone from his shoulders.  
“She said Ray had a lot to say about James and the Reporter who was embedded with you.”  
Brad snorts and wipes his mouth with the serviette she’d placed under his plate. So far, she’s ascertained that Brad is ok with everyone that was in his vehicle.   
“Gina called to see if your father still wanted to sell the lawn mower and she was telling me about Antonio’s plans to get out in a tour or two,” she continues.  
Brad raised an eyebrow and inclines his head.  
“Then I had a nice long conversation with Cara about Nathaniel’s paddle party,” and then she knew, even before she’d finished that this was where the problem was. Brad’s involuntary clenched fist and tightened jaw were enough without seeing the hurt return to her boy’s eyes.  
Of course it was Nathaniel. She should have realised when Cara told her; Brad had always had a soft spot for Nathaniel. His leaving the Corps was bound to upset Brad.  
But, there was something else – something more than just the loss of a good officer or a friend. Brad was reacting in exactly the same manner as when Jen left him.  
Oh.  
OHHH.  
Her eyes snapped to his and in that instant he knew she knew and his confirmation of that knowledge put everything into place. The inclusion of Nate at family barbeques, Brad travelling out to the East Coast on occasions, Nate answering Brad’s home phone on a Sunday morning, Brad smiling at Nate, the casual arm thrown around shoulders – it all made sense.  
Her boy was hurting because his boy was leaving.  
She reached out and took his large hands in hers.   
“It’s going to be ok,” she said with such clarity that he looked up in surprise.  
“How can you say that?” he asked in a rough voice, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”  
She smiled and he shook his head.  
“Have I told you the story about the first time we met Nate?”  
“You met him at Gunny’s house two summers ago, Mom,” despite his obvious heartbreak, that particular memory brought a small smile to his handsome face.  
She shook her head.  
“No, honey, I was talking about the first time you and I met Nathaniel Fick,” she smiled as his puzzled look. She proceeded to tell him about a chance meeting years ago between a mischievous 8 month old and a very pregnant Anne Fick.  
“I’ve heard your father embarrass both you and Ray about the Monkey Bar incident and Rudy’s let it slip that your paths crossed when Nate was in college,” the more she talked about it the stronger she feels she’s right.  
“Your point, Mom?”his exaggerated irritation almost hide his hope.  
“You belong together,” she simply said, “and no amount of distance is going to change that.”  
The look of disbelief was worth taking a picture of – if only to send to Ray; but she wasn’t that cruel.  
“You are dangerously close to turning into Bubbe Silverman,” he tried for flippancy, but it fell a little flat, “Firstly, you’ve heard of DADT. Secondly, Nate’s still leaving. Thirdly, what will that bat faced Mrs Goldsmere say? Fourthly, Nate is still leaving and Fifthly, I can’t believe you’ve played the mystic mom card – damn you woman!”  
She smiled the smile of the righteous.  
“But you know I’m right. Nothing worth having is easy, Brad, but I think you should try – you deserve to be happy.”  
He shook his head.  
“I don’t suppose you’ve talked this over with Nate?”  
The look she received said it all. Men!   
“Ok – I’m going in to call Nate and invite him over for dinner,” she said moving to take the plate and glass inside with her.  
“Wait,”  
She waited.  
“I can’t believe you are ok with this,” he started, “I can’t believe how calmly your taking it.”  
She smiled and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead.  
“What’s to take, you’re my son,” and with that she walked back inside to call her no longer sulking, 6’4’’ Marine warrior son’s boyfriend and invite him to dinner.  
And she doesn’t care what Mrs Goldsmere has to say about that.


	5. Justice

Justice  
She knows it’s TOTALLY inappropriate – he’s her BOSS for Christ’s sake – and she knows he’s practically MARRIED to some Army dude, it’s just he’s soooooo lovely and nice and those green eyes...*sigh*.  
It’s SO unfair! Why are all the great guys either married, gay or – and in this case – both?  
She takes another gulp of her drink and watches said boss and Andrew struggle to string up Chinese lanterns around the lattice at the end of the patio. She smiles to herself when the faded green tee rides up a little, exposing the smooth skin of Nate’s toned stomach as he passes the lanterns one by one to Andrew who is standing on a small step ladder.  
She’s never heard of the COLBERT brand before, but that tee shirt sure looks good on Nate. Everything looks good on Nate; he might be about 20 years older than her but the man works out – she knows he runs into work from home at least three times a week – he’s in terrific shape.  
“Earth to Michelle – you wanna give us a hand over here?” Andrew’s annoying voice broke through her thoughts. What a complete retard; she feels the blood rush to her face as she makes her way across the patio and looked patiently at the weirdo she has to share an office with.  
“I don’t know, Andrew,” she said as innocently as she can, “you look like you’re doing a fab job. You do know that one’s up the wrong way, right?” The loser had hung the last lantern upside down – the hanzi running in the wrong direction.  
She didn’t even try to cover the smug smile as Andrew’s face went a pale color and Nate manages to turn his snigger into a cough. His lips quirking only momentarily into a smirk – he really is stupidly good looking.  
“What can I do, Boss?” she asks because, while she was TOTALLY crushing on Nate, she isn’t a complete idiot and manages to control the urge to throw herself at him – just. Plus, she really needs this internship.  
“I really appreciate both of you helping out,” Nate was saying, “I just wanted it to be a BBQ in the backyard – but once John got involved...” he shrugs and motions to the small army of caterers and others setting up tables and a marquee.  
It‘s just like Nate to have the office 4th of July BBQ in his backyard and typical of John to bring in the big guns. These military types are all the same – except Nate.  
He’d been the one to interview her, barely 21 and straight out of University. It had taken all of 2 minutes to recognise that butterfly feeling in her stomach as infatuation and not nerves. She dared anyone to not fall at least a little in love with a full blown Nathaniel Fick smile.  
Suddenly there was a loud crash and slightly raised voices from within the house. Nate’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he turned to her.  
“Michelle, could you?” he asks holding the string of lanterns up to indicate he was reluctant to go but someone needed to sort out whatever had happened inside.  
“Sure thing, Boss,” she said as she strode off in the direction of the commotion.  
Andrew had taken her through the side gate and directly into the backyard, so she this was the first time she’d been inside Nate’s house.  
The patio door led into an open planned kitchen – all clean white tiles and shiny metallic surfaces. There was a round breakfast table off to one side next to which two guys stood looking into a cardboard box. They were speaking rapid Spanish.  
“Qué sucedió?” she asked the nearest.  
“Este idiota cayó la caja,” he replied indicating the other guy.  
“Quántos están quebrados?” she asked, thinking it might be ok.  
“Quizá seises,” the first one said.  
“Usted consiguió más en el carro?”  
He shook his head.  
“Debemos volver al almacén y obtener más,” he looked angrily at his hapless partner.  
"Si,” she motioned that they better get going.  
They packed the box and made their way out. The house was strangely silent, the noise from the setting up drifting lazily through the open windows.  
She looked around – the other side of the kitchen opened up into a large living area, the white titles giving way to honey ash flooring. There was a massive flat screen on the wall, a low coffee table and a huge dark brown leather sofa directly in front of it. With a glance back outside at Nate and Andrew still stringing up the lanterns, she ventured further into the house.  
It was extremely neat and tidy – even the wall of books were regimented in their straightness. She perused the titles: Fiasco by Ricks, The American Future by Schama, The People Speak by Zinn, This Man’s Army by Exum (wait – ANDREW wrote a book?) and, weirdly, the entire MacCaffery Dragonriders of Pern series.  
From the living area she wandered down the airy corridor, casually admiring the framed mosaic on the wall, and turned into the adjacent room which turned out to be the study. The neatness continued even though the large table that ran the entire length of the wall was distinctly divided into half. On one side sat Nate’s laptop – she’d used the Vaio last week when Nate had asked her to check his Pashto in the speech he was going to give next week. On the other side sat a massive PC flat screen hooked up to the largest tower she’d ever seen, the wireless keyboard and mouse sat next to a range of gamer controls and above the entire system, fixed to the wall, a surround sound system. That was some SERIOUS hardware – she is impressed.  
A few photos adorned the walls and she moves closer to have a look. A group of soldiers gathered around a statue of Saddam Hussein, an American flag hanging behind the second row, a bunch of very drunk guys dancing around Nate in an army cap and orange tie (how ridiculous that he should look so dorkily HOT) and yet another group of men sitting along a railing in shorts and tees, the setting sun behind them, their faces tanned and relaxed.  
Above the photos hangs what looks like a canoe paddle mounted on dark wood with signatures adorning it, intricate cord wrapped around the handle.  
The sound of the front door being opened has her hastily retreating from the study and loitering in the hallway.  
A very tall, blonde haired man in Marine Corps combat utility uniform steps into the house, his duffle bag over his shoulder. As he stops to remove his cap and drop keys onto the hallway table several things occur to her at once. This is the man Nate shares his life with, he’s a Marine, he’s exceptionally good looking, he’s not supposed to be home until tomorrow and she’s kind of trapped standing like an idiot in her boss’s hallway staring at her boss’s boyfriend.  
Blue eyes snap to hers and she finds herself blushing, she can see the question forming and before she can defend herself sounds of Nate striding through the kitchen and into the living room distract both of them.  
“...so what broke...oh Brad,” Nate says as he sees his Marine and out of the corner of her eye she sees him drop the duffle and begin towards Nate.  
He strides right past her, his attention on Nate and she wishes she was anywhere but in that hallway as Brad sweeps Nate into his arms and their lips meet in a silent crash. Nate’s arms go immediately around Brad’s body and someone is sighing into that kiss, their heads angling to the best position.  
Without words and with only one kiss, she is instantly aware of their feelings for each other and she is both disappointed and incredibly happy and not a little bit jealous to witness what is clearly two people deeply in love.  
Just her luck!  
She slips quietly past the couple, Brad’s hands holding Nate closer to him and Nate smiling lazily as they kiss again, and heads out onto the patio where Andrew is wrestling with a fold out chair.  
Retard.


	6. Pantaloon

Pantaloon  
He’d gotten the call at about 04:00 –his mom’s voice shrill and tight with tears telling him to get to Walter Reed as soon as he could, that Uncle Nate had called and said that’s where they had taken Uncle Brad.  
He’d rolls out of bed, kisses Maheen’s sleepy face and tells her to go back to sleep; there’s no need for both of them to go – she’d been working around the clock at the lab and really needed to recharge. If it was bad he’d call her later.  
The Beltway was eerily deserted and his mind wandered back to memories of his favourite Uncle. Nate is everybody’s favourite; but Brad had been his mentor and idol from a very early age. His mom like to re-tell the much cherished but highly embarrassing story of him crying for everyone, but as soon as her brother held him, he quietened and seemed mesmerised by the tall, handsome Marine. She tells it at every family gathering; Brad just smirks and ruffles his hair like he’s five again.   
He thinks of the many summers he spent at the big house on the leafy DC street, climbing the huge willow out the back, running with his Uncles in the morning, helping Brad with his bike when he was old enough to be trusted with tools.   
He remembers 2 weeks ago when his uncles had stayed with them overnight because Nate had a guest lecturer spot in Columbia and, despite protests from numerous family members (mainly just his Mom and Aunt Ems), the sexagenarians had driven the 440mile roundtrip. Brad had been in fine form, alternatively offering dry observations of his consultancy work, complimenting Maheen on her Ghormeh Sabezi or just watching Nate talk about his conference with that lazy smile and soft eyed gaze that no one in their right mind would bring to his attention.   
He refuses to think that Brad might be dying.  
He searches for Nate once he gets into the facility and finds him hunched over his phone in one of the family waiting rooms.  
“Nate,” he reaches to embrace his uncle.  
“Alex, what are you doing here?” Nate greets him with a solid hug.  
“Mom called,” he starts and then Nate is shaking his head, that small smile in the corner of his mouth.  
“Damn that woman,” his tone warm and gentle, “I knew I shouldn’t have called her. I hope you weren’t sleeping.”  
He just looks at his uncle. Nate looks as if he hasn’t slept in a week, his usually bright green eyes are lacklustre behind the rimless glasses and there are lines across his forehead that weren’t there 2 weeks ago. In his mind, Nate and Brad have been the same way for the last thirty years; but the Nate that stands before him now looks all of his 69 years.  
It’s a shock to the system.  
“What’s the sitrep?” he asks, retreating to his Marine training to get straight to the point.  
Nate unconsciously straightens – once a Marine, always a Marine.  
“After having dinner at Darcy’s, Brad said he had a headache,” Nate began, “so we went home instead of going on to the bar and we sat around watching TV until we went to bed at around 2100.”  
He just about kept his smirk under control, but Nate caught it and returned it with a shake of his head and a grin of his own. Using his Nate-translator he figured the story probably went a little like this:   
Nate had dragged Brad kicking and screaming out to dinner with some of the guys and the only reason Brad went was because it was Darcy’s and Brad was a complete sucker for Darcy’s steaks. After dinner, he guessed that the guys wanted to hit the bars but Brad had wanted to hit something entirely different and had given the excuse of a headache to drag Nate home and defile him on the couch, after which Nate probably dozed off and had to be woken up to go to bed.  
They might be getting on in years and his Mother might not think them capable of driving long distances, but he was under no such illusions that they were feeble old men – he’d seen the way they still looked at each other and there was no way they still weren’t getting all hot and bothered every chance they could.  
Which made this trip to the hospital all that more unnerving.  
He raised his eyebrow and Nate continued.  
“I woke up at around 2330 and Brad wasn’t in bed,” Nate’s voice wavers only slightly, “I found him slumped against the cabinets in our bathroom. He was breathing but unconscious. I called the ambulance and here we are.”  
He nodded.   
“What did they say?”  
Nate look a little lost.  
“Heart attack or mild stroke.”  
The words sound hollow and he stomach does a slow roll. His face must give away his inner dread because Nate is pulling him into another hug – like he’s the one whose life partner just cheated death.  
“Mr Fick?” they turn to watch a young intern approach.  
“Yes?” Nate replies.  
“I’m Dr Patel,” he extends his hand and Nate shakes it, “I’ll be treating Mr Colbert until your regular Doctor arrives later on today.”  
Nate nods.  
“How is he?” Nate asks.  
“He’s stable now – I’ll take you to him in a minute,” Dr Patel went on, “he’s had a mild heart attack; we’ve run a series of tests but early indications suggest there’s been minimal damage to the muscle tissue, which is a good thing.”  
Nate just stares at the Doctor, so he interrupts.  
“Alex Barbasch,” he introduces himself, “any idea what brought this on?”  
“There’s not a lot of evidence at the moment to say much of anything other than he’s had a heart attack,” the Doctor allows, “I’d usually say age was a contributing factor, but Mr Colbert is in extremely good shape for a man of his age.”  
“Can we see him?” Nate’s voice sounds light and far away.  
“Of course,” the doctor nods and turns to led them away from the waiting area.  
Brad is lying on his side when they enter the private room; with his eyes closed, a hand under his cheek.  
“I’ll be back to check on him in an hour or so,” the Doctor excuses himself.  
They arrange themselves around the bed and just look at Brad sleeping. There are monitors blinking away next to the bed and he has at least 2 drips in.  
“Please tell me you didn’t bring Ray,” Brad’s voice is hoarse but with that sarcastic drawl he’s known for.  
“Did you hear any Brittany Spears or Lady Gaga songs being sung in a whiney, off pitch voice?” Nate asks - the relief almost tangible.  
Brad opens his eyes to stare directly at Nate.  
“Point, Nate,” he smiles and slowly turns over on his back. Nate’s hand twitch slightly but he doesn’t reach out stop Brad’s movements.  
“Alex, what are you doing here?” Brad asks in almost the exact tone Nate used earlier.  
He rolls his eyes at them both.  
“You called my sister?” Brad throws at Nate. Nate squares his shoulders and just looks at Brad in that not-really-but-I-am-pissed-at-you way.  
“Well, you will get up in the middle of the night to have a heart attack,” he says primly, “who else was I supposed to call?”  
He knows Brad can hear the worry in Nate’s voice because he can hear it.  
“Hey, hey, hey” Brad says softly, his large hands finding Nate’s, their fingers lacing together, “it’s ok, Nate. I’m ok.”  
He can see the small tremor run through Nate and he realises the strain Nate’s been under.  
He remembers a story his zaydeh once told him about Brad and Nate as children and an incident involving monkey bars. He can’t even imagine the feeling of losing someone you’ve known and loved for so long.   
Nate nods and collects himself.  
“So it would seem,” he responds.  
They look at each other in that way that he’s come to understand is them communicating without words.   
“The Doctor said they ran some tests?” it comes out more as a question than a statement.  
Nate nods again.  
“He doesn’t seem to know anything at the moment but I’m sure Claudette will be able to tell us everything when she comes around later on today.”  
Brad sighs deeply and closes his eyes briefly.  
“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting out anytime soon,” he grumbles.  
Nate snorts softly.  
“Be thankful it’s just Alex here – wait under your sister hears you’ve had a heart attack,” Nate says seriously but his eyes are already dancing, “both your sisters.”  
Brad groans and opens his eyes to smile at Nate.  
“How long before the knitting circle hear?” he asks tiredly.  
At this both he and Nate chuckle – chances are the Marine phone tree has already done its job and an entire platoon already knows.  
“Why don’t you just get some sleep and we’ll worry about who knows what when you wake up?” Nate suggests calmly as they both watch Brad’s eyes fluttering shut.  
The steady rise and fall of Brad’s chest, as well as the steady blinking of the monitors, signal sleep has been achieved.  
“Alex, thanks for coming down,” Nate starts, “you don’t have to stay.”  
He nods at his uncles words.  
“I know – but I want to see Brad’s face when Mom arrives with Aunty Em,” he says – the ‘I’m worried about you because I know you’ll just sit here and watch Brad and not sleep and not eat’ goes without saying.  
Nate looks at him for several long moments – his green eyes sharp and appraising.  
“Ok,” he says softly, “thank you.”  
They settle in for the next couple of hours, occasionally drinking coffee, until the Doctor arrives in the morning with her assessment.


	7. Second Childishness

Second Childishness  
He opens his eyes when he feels a gentle shake of his shoulder.  
He looks up sleepily from his chair in the late afternoon sun.  
He’s back; that handsome old man with the twinkle in his eyes. He’s back and gently shaking him awake.   
It’s definitely the best part of his day; so much of what he remembers is muddled up and he gets frustrated when he’s obviously gotten it wrong – but this, this he can remember.  
“Oh” he sighs and smiles up at the man leaning down in front of him. This earns him a returning grin and something in his chest moves because he’s seen that grin before...many, many times.  
“Time to wake up, sleepy,” the old man says as he reaches down to pull him out of his chair.  
The old man wraps an arm around his shoulders and guides him towards a lovely, large house. He looks around as they pass a lush green garden filled with gardenias, honeysuckle, bracken ferns and an array of mature trees – magnolia and elm. Someone has planted perennials along the edges of the beds, giving the whole thing a splash of colour. It’s a beautiful garden, obviously well looked after, he hopes he’s forgiven for falling asleep in it.  
When they reach the house, the old man guides them to a swing seat at one end of the patio that runs the length of the back of the house. The other man helps him settle into the seat, holding it steady before sliding in beside him. A blanket materialises and he’s tucked in, an arm wrapped casually around his shoulders. As they swing lightly he watches the slow moving shadows and patches of sun play their mottled game across the pristine grass. He exhales dreamily as he lets his head rest on the older man’s shoulder, the arm around his shoulder dropping slightly to rest on his side, pulling him closer.  
“This is nice,” he says finally, a happy, contented feeling passing through his body.  
“Mmmmmm,” the older man hums in agreement. He can smell his aftershave, faintly spicy, and feel the heat seeping from one body to another.   
He lets his mind wander. It’s cool for a spring evening and in the distance the sound of a lawn being mowed is the droning baseline for a family of robins nesting in the willow in the corner. His hand comes to rest on the chest beneath his head. He can feel the heartbeat of the man he’s resting upon.  
A sudden fear stabs at his happiness. His situational awareness is shot; he’s being held by a person he doesn’t know. Confusion starts to set in – should he know this person? Is he in danger? Where are the exits?   
He feels the older man turn his head and a touch of lips to the top of his head.  
“What is it?” the man asked as if he knows the panic that’s sweeping through his body.  
The tone is conversational, gentle and he doesn’t think before he pulls back to look into those beautiful eyes.  
“I know you, right?” he asks and because he’s looking right at the handsome face he can’t miss the flash of emotions that run across it like quicksilver and even as that small smile emerges he can see the hurt and sadness in those blue, blue eyes.  
“I’m Brad,” the man says, “and you know me.”  
And just like that the confusion lifts, the years roll back and he remembers Brad, Brad Colbert.   
He remembers the trip they took to Vancouver that year; how Brad bitched about being dragged into a city so retarded Canadian but then had fucked him long and sweet on the floor of their rented Kitslano bungalow, his smooth tan shoulders shaking with the effort.  
He remembers picking Brad up from the airport when he came home from England, from Iraq, from Syria, from San Diego; his strong arms wrapped around him telling him how much Brad had missed him.  
The Christmases with family and friends, Brad’s sister’s wedding, birthday’s, Ray’s funeral, deployments, retirement, college dorms, kissing in cars, beds, kitchens – the memories kept coming.  
The beach party where Brad took exception to the attention some guy had been giving him and they had argued furiously about ‘possessions’ and then had hard, desperate make up sex in their backyard under the stars, Brad marking his body with his mouth to make a point.  
The look of wonder and joy on Brad’s face when Alex was born, his mother reaching up to hug Brad in his Class C uniform, the movement of Brad’s colorful tattoo as he swings the mallet into the plaster wall they knocked down to make the kitchen a more open space, lazy Sunday morning sex in rumpled sheets.   
Brad shaking under him, begging him more, harder, come on Nate; Brad looming over him, the sweet slide and brutal thrusts filling, opening, satisfying him.  
Brad working on his bike, coming out of the surf with his board, on monkey bars, lounging on their huge sofa; bare feet swinging over the edge as he reads the manual to their new coffee machine.  
Jogging in the park, dinner parties, work engagements, 4th of July’s, medal ceremonies, paddle parties, lots of friends, children, family – it all comes rushing back and he can’t seem to stop the tears welling as he remembers, above everything, the love he shares with this extraordinary man.  
He smiles reassuringly at Brad.  
“Brad,” he sighs at the returning smile, “I’ve know you my whole life.”


End file.
